


Shenanigans

by Nkala99



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25602196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nkala99/pseuds/Nkala99
Summary: A Congressman, a reporter, and the White House Deputy Chief of Staff go to a bar . . .
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you have as much fun reading it. A few notes:  
> •Please note that Sam’s reactions to painkillers may bear a resemblance to Brenda Anders’ Omaha Incident story and amazing sequel. I found them on the Wayback Machine and just loved them.  
> •Traditionally, flashbacks are told with italics, but I don’t like reading sections in italics, so all alternating scenes not in Leo’s office are considered flashbacks.  
> •I am moving on to work on a West Wing piece for Nanowrimo 2020. There may be other shorter pieces as the mood strikes, but the piece I’m developing will take up most of my writing time.

“. . . not entirely sure, but Jed’s asked me to brief him once I get information . . .”

A light knock on the open door to his office drew Leo’s attention from the person on the other end of his phone. Seeing his senior staff clustered in the doorway, he waved them in.

“Yeah . . . well, I’m sure the other half of this story will be enlightening,” he stated. “. . . that too . . . thanks, Abbey. I’ll call later.”

Leo hung up the phone and stood. Leveling a stern glare at Toby, Josh, and CJ, as well as a surprised look at Danny Concannon, he pointed to the sofa and chairs in his seating area. “Sit.”

Josh fidgeted. “Leo, can this wait? We have a slight emergency on our hands.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed, taking in details of his people. He spotted a flash of white from gauze wrapped around Toby’s right hand, as well as the ice pack CJ was holding against her left elbow. Josh appeared a little unsteady on his feet. Danny, however, looked perfectly fine but for the worry on his face.

“Would that slight emergency happen to involve a missing deputy communications director?” Leo demanded.

All four of them jolted in surprise. “How, uh . . . how did you know?” CJ asked.

Leo folded his arms. “The Secret Service called me, per Protocol P-2.”

Three faces winced. The fourth, Danny, was intrigued.

“Wait,” he said. “This happens often enough that the Secret Service has a _protocol_ for it?”

Leo pointed at the seating area again. “Sit.”

Obediently, his staffers trudged to the chairs with Danny in their wake. Toby and CJ sat on the couch, CJ setting the ice pack on her knee and resting her elbow on top of it. Danny claimed the chair near CJ.

Josh bumped into the coffee table and mumbled a curse before sitting on the couch beside Toby. Toby snorted.

“Serves you right,” he muttered.

Josh bristled. “Are you _blaming_ me for this?”

“That’s how it works when it’s _your fault_ ,” Toby retorted.

“Enough!” Leo barked, joining them. He looked Josh over as he sat down. “Are you _drunk_?”

Josh pouted. “Of course not!”

“He might not be entirely _sober_ , either,” Danny chimed in.

“Excuse you,” Josh said, glaring at him. “You had more beers than me.”

“ _One_ more than you,” Danny corrected. “It’s not my fault that two beers upsets your delicate system.”

“I’ll have you know-!” Josh replied, his voice raising.

“Stop!” Leo ordered.

The argument halted in its tracks, but the sullen look remained on Josh’s face.

“The last I heard from _any_ of you, you were all planning to work in your offices while waiting for the outcome from tonight’s meeting between the Secretary of Education and several teachers’ unions,” Leo stated. “Then about half an hour or so ago, I find out that my senior staff has made three trips to the White House Medical Unit, maintenance is reporting the need to repair minor property damage to the West Wing, and my Deputy Communications Director was picked up for tripping the silent alarms near the front lawn.”

“He went _outside_?” CJ cried. “It’s _snowing_ out there!”

“How did he manage to find the _door_ , let alone the front lawn?” Danny added.

“Is he okay?” Toby asked.

Leo held up a hand, stemming the flow of questions. “He’s fine, for the most part,” he told them. “Abbey decided it was safer all around if she kept an eye on him, though. He’s tucked up in the Residence sleeping off whatever he was given.” At that, he scowled at his three recalcitrant staffers.

“Leo-,” Josh began.

“Remind me again,” Leo said over Josh, “what is rule number one regarding Sam?”

“Sam is not to be left alone with Josh when there are flammable liquids around,” CJ answered promptly.

“Hey!” Josh protested.

As everyone’s eyes turned to him expectantly, he sagged in his seat. “Okay, _fine_ ,” he muttered.

“Fair enough,” Leo said. “All right, what’s rule number _two_?”

“At no time is Sam to be left unattended when on painkillers or is operating after forty-eight consecutive hours with no sleep,” Toby replied.

Danny didn’t know whether to be amused or concerned. “Exactly how many rules does he _have_?”

“Not as many as Josh,” Toby told him.

“Sam was discovered wandering the front lawn with a head wound, no coat, and carrying a basket filled with what appeared to be every pencil in the West Wing,” Leo stated. “What in the _hell_ happened tonight?”

Josh sat up. “I guess you could say it all started when Danny and I joined Matt Skinner for a drink at Capital Lounge,” he began.

Leo held up a hand again, a look of incredulity on his face. “You can’t be serious.”

“What?” Josh’s head swiveled from Leo to Danny, confused.

Leo wearily rubbed his forehead. “You’re starting your explanation with ‘a Congressman, a reporter, and the White House Deputy Chief of Staff went to a bar’?”

Josh perked up, a smile on his face. “Hey, that’s good!”

Leo glared at him. “It sounds like the start of a bad joke.”

“It gets better,” CJ promised him.

“Given that the punchline involves a drunk Deputy Chief of Staff, and injured Press Secretary, and injuries to my top two Communications staff, I sincerely doubt that,” Leo replied.

“I’m not drunk!” Josh insisted.

“ _Focus_ , Josh,” Leo snapped.

“It really _was_ an innocuous meeting,” Danny spoke up. “Congressman Skinner had had a rough week, and Josh wanted to take him to get some drinks to cheer him up.”

“How the hell did _you_ get involved in all this?” Leo demanded.

Danny grinned. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“We saw him coming from visiting CJ and invited him along,” Josh said.

“And you two were . . . ?” Leo prompted, looking between CJ and Toby.

“Working,” Toby replied. CJ nodded.

“You didn’t join them at the bar?” Leo pressed.

“We didn’t know they’d gone until they got back,” CJ said.

“And decided to hold the first ever West Wing Olympic Games,” Toby stated.

Leo stared at Toby. He looked at CJ, then Danny, and then finally at Josh. “You’re serious?”

Josh nodded enthusiastically. “Matt, Danny, and I got to talking about college and some of the stress-relieving activities we got up to. Matt told us about this Olympics thing he did with his study group, and it was _amazing_!”

“I have a very bad feeling about this,” Leo muttered.

“You should,” Toby agreed.

“So, given how busy we’ve all been, and how stressed out we’ve felt, I thought it would be a great way to boost morale!” Josh continued with his story.

Leo glanced at Danny. “And you went along with this?”

Danny shrugged. “On the outside, it sounded pretty harmless. If I had known how competitive and injury-prone they all were, I might have had second thoughts.”

“ _Might_ have?” CJ echoed.

Danny grinned at her. “Well, yeah. Either way, it was going to be hilarious.”

CJ rolled her eyes.

“Sam and I had just finished all three potential responses to the teacher union outcome when Josh came tearing into my office demanding we join him in the bullpen,” Toby told Leo, picking up the story.

* * *

“Can you run that by me again?” Toby asked as CJ joined them, Danny trailing her.

“What’s going on?” CJ asked.

“Josh wants to compete in the Olympics,” Sam told her.

Josh swatted Sam’s arm. “That’s not what I said!” he cried.

“You said, and I quote, ‘wouldn’t it be fun to form a team for an Olympics?’,” Sam told him.

“I did?” Josh frowned at him, then looked at Toby for confirmation. Toby stared back at him, nonplussed.

“Okay, well, Danny said you guys had an idea for taking a break,” CJ stated.

Josh nodded. “We do! We’re going to have an Olympics!”

Toby’s eyes narrowed. “Are you drunk?”

“No!” Josh all but howled. “Come on; we all could use a break. What better way to spend some time waiting for the teacher union talks to finish than to play some games?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Toby replied. “How about working?”

Seeing Josh deflate, Sam cleared his throat. “We did finish those drafts . . .”

Josh beamed at him.

CJ shrugged. “What the hell,” she said. “It’s better than watching an empty floor on C-SPAN. I’m in.”

Toby rolled his eyes as everyone turned to him. “Fine,” he groused. “What did you have in mind?”

Josh waved a rubber band ball in the air excitedly. “Archery!”

* * *

“Archery?” Leo echoed.

“With rubber bands,” CJ informed him.

“Oh God,” Leo muttered. “Did someone lose an eye?”

“Surprisingly, the event went off without a hitch,” Toby answered. “No injuries, no property damage, and everything was cleaned up quickly.”

Leo tilted his head to one side, debating whether or not to ask the next question waiting on his tongue. Finally, curiosity won out. “Who won?”

“Sam took the gold,” Danny answered. “You know, for such a klutz, that kid has crazy good aim.”

“Toby got silver,” CJ added. “I imagine all of those rubber ball tosses in his office was good training.”

“CJ took bronze,” Danny finished. “In a sweeping upset for Indiana.”

“Indiana?” Leo repeated.

“Well, we’re all Americans, so we can’t _all_ represent the US,” Josh stated as if the idea was perfectly reasonable. “So we decided we would represent our home states.”

“And I’m sure you made Connecticut proud,” Leo said sardonically. “Okay, the archery sounded harmless enough. Then what?”

“Desk chair sprint,” Josh told him.

“Desk chair . . . sprint,” Leo said.

“We all took turns pushing each other through the West Wing around obstacles,” Josh explained. “We did brackets to declare the winner. The final race came down to Sam and CJ.”

“Are you _insane_?” Leo cried. “What possessed Sam to agree to this? The kid can barely walk ten feet without tripping over something, and you had him careening around on wheels?”

“Sam wasn’t the one who got hurt,” Toby said calmly.

* * *

“I still can’t believe no one picked me to push them,” Josh complained.

“You can’t believe why no one wants a drunk guy steering a chair and racing all over the building?” Toby snarked, his hands braced on the back of Sam’s chair.

“Leave him be, Tobus,” CJ said. “He’s just upset that, so far, he sucks at the games he came up with.”

Josh folded his arms, something suspiciously close to a pout on his face.

“Come on, Josh,” Sam wheedled. “You got bronze on this one, right? That’s still good. Just call the countdown. I’ve got another gold to win.”

“That’s what you think, Spanky,” CJ said.

Josh clambered up onto Ginger’s desk. “Take your marks!”

CJ shoved at Sam, who shoved her back. Toby and Danny, their designated chair drivers, tensed in readiness.

“Get set!” Josh called. “And . . . go!”

Danny and Toby took off, cheered on by their teammates as they swerved around potted plants and chairs strategically placed on their route. Danny slowed as he took the corner near Josh’s office, allowing Toby and Sam to shoot ahead.

“Dammit, Danny, can’t you go any faster?” CJ shouted.

“You’re a lot lighter than Sam,” Danny told her, closing the gap between them and their competitors. “I don’t want to tip you over!”

“Let _me_ worry about that!” CJ called back. “Now move!”

Danny put on a burst of speed, bringing them neck and neck with Sam and Toby as they neared the final stretch.

“Outta my way, Spanky!” CJ yelled. “That gold is mine!”

“Not if I can help it!” Same shot back.

The door to the communications bullpen, their designated finish line, loomed ahead.

* * *

“And?” Leo prompted after CJ fell silent.

Toby sniffed. “She’s trying to find a way to say she cheated without coming out and saying it.”

“I _didn’t_ _cheat_!” CJ cried.

“You elbowed Sam out of the way right when Danny tried to nudge into us!” Toby pointed out.

“I don’t remember it that way,” CJ said primly.

“You don’t remember elbowing Sam, then the chair veering the other way and your other elbow smacking into the door frame?” Josh asked.

“I remember winning the race,” CJ told him.

“Well, as long as you won a completely imaginary trophy, then I’m sure it was well worth it,” Leo said sarcastically.

“Medal, Leo,” Josh corrected. “It’s the Olympics. You win medals.”

“Josh?” Leo asked.

“Yeah?”

“Look at my face. Do I look like I care?”

Josh squinted at him. “Maybe on the inside?”

Leo rolled his eyes and turned to CJ. “So that explains Lieutenant Rollins’ first report about a severely bruised elbow. But I still don’t have an explanation for the other two, not to mention the property damage.”

“We’re getting to it,” Danny assured him.

“One of the medical reports said something about burns,” Leo continued. His gaze zeroed in on Josh. “You weren’t trying to start another fire, were you?”

Josh reared back. “No!”

Toby cleared his throat and lifted one hand. Leo spied the gauze wrapped around it.

“ _You_ got burned?” Leo asked.

“Yeah,” Toby replied.

“How in the hell did you manage to burn your hand?” Leo demanded.

Toby shifted his glare to Josh.

Josh shrugged and smiled at Leo. “Every Olympics _has_ to have a marathon.”

* * *

“Why can’t we just use the same route we used for the sprint?” CJ asked.

“Because everyone knows it now, and _some_ of you raced it more than the rest of us,” Josh reasoned as he finished pouring the coffee into the mugs. Setting the pot aside, he carefully lifted one mug. The coffee shifted, lapping dangerously at the brim, but didn’t spill. “Okay, everyone grab your mugs.”

“Sure you don’t want to sit this one out, CJ?” Toby asked as they all lifted their own mug. “Wouldn’t want you to burn yourself while cheating on this one.”

CJ glared at him. “It wasn’t cheating!”

“You elbowed him out of the way!” Toby yelled.

“If you have a complaint, feel free to file it with the West Wing Olympics Ethics Committee,” CJ retorted.

“Children!” Danny called. “You coming, or what?”

Toby and CJ took their places at the starting line, their rivalry ratcheting up their competitive streaks.

“And . . . go!” Josh shouted.

Everyone sprang into action at the shout, then immediately slowed as their brimming mugs of freshly brewed coffee threatened to spill. As they wound their way out of the communications bullpen and towards the main lobby, there was a thud, a muffled curse, and the sound of a mug shattering on the ground.

“Sam’s out, then,” Josh commented as he pulled ahead of Danny, eyes fixed on his mug held out in front of him.

Danny didn’t dare glance back. “How can you tell?”

Josh smirked at his mug. “You hear the thud and the ‘ow’ in the West Wing and think-.”

“Sam Seaborn,” Danny finished with Josh, a smirk of his own curling his lips.

“You better clean up that spill, Sam!” Josh called back. “I wouldn’t want to slip when I grab my gold crossing the finish line!”

“Bite me, Josh,” came Sam’s reply.

“Top graduate of Princeton and Duke and a speechwriter for the president of the United States, and the best you can come up with is ‘bite me’?” Toby demanded.

“Forgive me,” Sam called back. “What I _meant_ to say was, ‘Josh; a pox on your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog’!”

“What the hell is _that_?” CJ cried.

“That’s more like it!” Toby shouted back to Sam.

“Shakespeare,” Danny called to CJ. “The Tempest.”

“Nerds,” CJ muttered.

The remaining contestants wound around the lobby, navigating the sign-in desks, potted plants, and stanchions, Josh clinging to his lead. An occasional taunt cut through their fierce concentration, but the air was filled with silence until another thud and-.”

“ _Son of a-_!”

* * *

“Really, no one’s going to miss that big vase anyway,” Josh stated.

“Bernard will,” CJ said.

“Who’s Bernard?” Danny asked.

“From the Visitor’s Office,” CJ replied as if that explained everything.

“What the hell is a giant vase doing in the middle of the floor like that anyway?” Toby demanded.

“It was hardly in the middle of the floor,” Danny commented.

“I think we’re straying from the most important point,” Josh said.

“Which is?” Leo asked.

Josh beamed and puffed out his chest. “I won the gold!”

“Right.” Leo shook his head. “So up to this point, we have two injuries and a broken vase. And Sam is _still_ uninjured?”

“Boggles the mind, doesn’t it?” Josh asked. “It’s like he has situational clumsiness; keeps everyone on their toes.”

Leo turned to Toby. “I just have one question.”

“Just one?” Danny asked, surprised.

Leo ignored him. “Why did you all use _hot_ coffee? Couldn’t you have just as easily used the old stuff?”

Leo watched as Toby, CJ, Josh, and Danny exchanged stunned looks.

“We, uh . . . didn’t think of that,” CJ admitted.

“Clearly,” Leo said wryly. “All right. I take it that Sam’s ‘situational clumsiness’ is about to rear its ugly head?”

“Maybe it isn’t so much situational as it is him saving it all up for what happened next,” Danny said thoughtfully.

Leo’s brow furrowed in trepidation. “What happened next?”

* * *

“You can’t just sit out of an Olympic event!” Josh protested.

Toby folded his arms, careful of his newly-bandaged hand, and glared at Josh. “Watch me.”

“The people rooting for the great state of New York will be disappointed,” Josh insisted.

Toby’s frown deepened. “Are you . . . you _do_ know that there’s no one _actually_ watching and cheering us on, don’t you?”

“ _Come on,_ Toby!” Josh’s voice was edging dangerously close to a whine. “You’re not even going to use your hands, anyway!”

“Oh, leave him alone,” CJ told him. “Besides, how did you imagine _five_ people playing soccer, anyway?”

“How are we doing this if we’re representing different states?” Sam added.

“Easy.” Josh moved to the center of the room. “We play in partners. Winning team splits and faces off. Whoever wins both rounds wins the gold.”

“Easy, he says,” CJ mumbled.

“Are you _sure_ you want to play soccer in _here_?” Danny asked.

Josh glanced around. “What? I scooted the table. There’s plenty of room now.”

“The table is solid oak,” Danny pointed out. “It’s the least of my concern. We’re in the _Roosevelt_ room.”

Josh flapped a hand at him. “It’ll be fine.”

CJ raised her hand. “Query.”

“Recognized,” Josh replied.

“Do we even _have_ a soccer ball?” CJ asked.

Josh moved to one of the chairs where he had stashed a ball. “Right here,” he announced, holding it up.

Everyone stared at the ball he held, then glanced at each other.

“Does anyone _else_ see a basketball?” Sam asked.

“Exactly _how_ drunk are you?” Toby asked Josh.

Josh propped on hand on his hip. “Look, this was the best I could do. Do you want to continue complaining, or can we play soccer?”

With his colleagues’ acquiescence, Josh outlined the rules, then everyone claimed a rolling chair. Toby retreated to a corner, dragging a chair behind him so that he would be out of the way.

The first ten minutes of the game went as planned, with the ball bouncing off of opposite walls and being blocked as the players grew accustomed to the rhythm. As their comfort level rose, so did their heckling.

“I’m open!”

“You call that a kick?”

“Our goal is the _other_ way!”

Toby winced as the basketball began to bounce higher against the wall, and with increasing force. When it nearly struck the portrait of Teddy Roosevelt, he said, “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.”

“Forfeited teams don’t get a say!” Josh called back. He dribbled the ball away from CJ with his feet and kicked it to Danny.

“Fine,” Toby retorted. “I’ll remember that when I’m explaining how this room got destroyed.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you worry too much?” Josh asked.

Sam stole the ball from Danny and propelled his chair backward across the room towards the goal, the ball rolling with him. Josh kicked his chair to block Sam, pushing as hard as he could. The two collided spectacularly, chairs and bodies crashing to the floor as the basketball was suddenly kicked into the air and went sailing right through the window in an explosion of glass.

* * *

Leo was pressing the tips of his fingers into his temple and rubbing in a circular motion in a futile attempt at staving off the building headache.

“Josh kind of rolled when he hit the floor, so he was fine,” CJ explained. “Sam wasn’t quite as lucky.”

Leo sighed and dropped his hands. “Rollins’ report says moderate concussion and a cut that needed a few stitches.”

CJ nodded. “You know the bookshelf by Roosevelt’s portrait? Those white columns . . . the corners are a little sharper . . . when Sam fell, he managed to hit his head on one on the way down.”

Leo looked around the room. The earlier levity had faded in the wake of the retelling of Sam’s injury. “Did he lose consciousness?”

CJ glanced at Josh, who looked at Toby.

“We don’t _think_ so,” Danny answered.

“You don’t _think_ so?” Leo echoed.

“By the time we got to him, he was awake,” Danny told him. If he _was_ unconscious, it wasn’t for long.”

“Toby and Danny took Sam down to the clinic to get checked out,” CJ continued. “Josh and I cleaned up what we could while we waited for them to get back.”

“Sam’s head hurt, as you could imagine, so Rollins okayed some pain medication that wouldn’t knock him out,” Toby told Leo. “Rollins also told us to make sure Sam stayed awake.”

“And knowing this, you _still_ lost him?” Leo demanded.

“Not then,” Toby admitted.

“You guys were really obsessive about those painkillers when we got back to the bullpen,” Danny told CJ, Toby, and Josh. “What’s _with_ that, anyway?”

Toby, CJ, and Josh exchanged looks to see who would answer. Finally, CJ spoke.

“Sam tends to get a little . . . confused,” she explained. “He’s a little more susceptible to suggestions, whether or not they’re directed at him. As a result, he has a habit of just wandering off with the latest idea that got stuck in his head.”

“Which brings us to how in the hell he ended up outside,” Leo said.

“We only took our eyes off of him for a second!” CJ insisted.

* * *

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

Josh frowned at Toby. “What do you mean?”

Toby scowled at Josh, one hand clamped firmly around Sam’s elbow. “We’ve had _three_ visits to the clinic in the last ninety minutes, and you want us to _keep playing_?”

“Sam can sit this one out,” Josh assured him.

“Oh, well, then that takes care of _all_ of the problems I have with this plan!” Toby snarked.

“Rollins said we have to keep Sam awake, right?” Josh asked. “Won’t we have an easier time doing that if he’s moving around?”

“What did you have in mind?” Danny asked, curious.

Josh brandished a handful of freshly-sharpened pencils. “Javelin!”

Sam frowned and squinted at the pencils. “Aren’t javelins bigger than that?”

CJ snorted at Josh’s stunned look and gently took Sam’s arm, tugging him free of Toby and leading him to a chair. She placed a hand on his shoulder and lightly pushed him to sit down. “Don’t worry about Josh; he’s drunk.”

“Not drunk!” Josh called.

CJ ignored him. “You just sit here for a bit while we go and humor him.”

Josh set the pencils on the nearest desk. “See if I ever try and boost your morale again after tonight!”

“Is that a promise?” Toby asked.

CJ joined them, picking up one of the pencils. “How do we play?” she asked, hoping to halt the growing squabble.

Josh turned to her. “You stand behind this desk and throw a pencil into one of those trays,” he said, pointing at a series of strategically placed and empty inboxes across the room. “I’ve marked how much they’re worth on post-it notes. Highest score after three rounds wins.”

They quickly arranged themselves in order, Toby agreeing to play with only a token amount of grumbling. The first round was successful, and Sam happily collected the pencils for round two before sitting back down in his chair.

The competitive buzz increased throughout the second round as all thoughts of anything but the game slipped from everyone’s mind.

Josh lined up his final throw of the round, tossing his pencil at the basket marked fifty points. The pencil sailed through the air, landing in the basket and bouncing out again. He thrust a triumphant fist into the air.

“Fifty points!” he crowed.

“Why are you cheering?” Toby demanded. “You missed.”

Josh whirled around. “I did not!” he cried. “It clearly landed in the basket!”

“And back out again,” Toby pointed out. “It doesn’t count!”

“It landed, so it counts!” Josh yelled.

“It didn’t stick the landing!” Toby shouted back.

“Okay, hang on.” CJ passed Sam the rest of the pencils and stepped between Toby and Josh. “What’s the precedent?”

“For pencil javelin in the West Wing Olympics?” Danny asked from his perch on a nearby desk. “I don’t think there _is_ one.”

CJ sent him a glare. “I mean for tonight. Didn’t one of the pencils bounce in the first round?”

“And _stayed_ _in_ the _basket_!” Toby insisted.

“It _landed in_ the _basket_!” Josh snapped. “It counts!”

“It has to _stay_ there!”

“Who says?” Josh demanded. “I never said that was the rule!”

“Oh, how convenient,” Toby said. “The guy inventing the game changing the rules along the way in his favor!”

“Uh, guys?” Danny asked, rising and looking to one side.

He was ignored. “All right, just calm down,” CJ said.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Toby yelled. “He’s trying to cheat!”

“You know what?” Josh said. “You’re just a sore loser! You can’t handle my epic athletic ability!”

“Guys?” Danny’s voice carried more urgency, his attention on the room and not on the argument.

“You mean the same athletic ability that sent Sam cracking his head open in the Roosevelt room?” Toby asked.

“That was an accident!” Josh cried.

“I think we’re done with games for tonight,” CJ said. “Let’s just clean up and cool off in our offices and-.”

“ _Guys_!”

CJ, Josh, and Toby turned to Danny. “ _What_?”

Danny looked at them, concern plain on his face. “Where’s Sam?”

* * *

“We had just started to spread out searching for him when Secret Service came to bring us here,” Toby finished.

Silence fell as Leo leaned back in his chair, studying his errant staffers and Danny. He let their discomfort stretch for a long moment.

“Let me make sure I have this straight, since I have to fill in the president and the First Lady,” he finally said. “My deputy went to a bar and came back drunk and with a plan for office games.”

“Not drunk,” Josh mumbled.

Leo ignored him. “In the course of said office games, the president’s senior staff broke a vase, a window, and themselves. Is that about right?”

“Danny helped,” Toby added.

Danny glared half-heartedly at him.

“Right,” Leo said.

“Leo?” CJ asked. “What happened with Sam?”

Seeing the concern for their friend grow on their faces, Leo softened slightly. “When Secret Service called me, I had them bring Sam here. He was shaking pretty hard from being out in the cold and wasn’t too coherent. The president happened to notice from next door and called Abbey. She took one look at him and bundled him off to the Residence to look after him.”

CJ nodded her thanks.

“You had him collecting pencils from that last game?” Leo asked Josh.

Josh shrugged. “It kept him awake and out of the way. Seemed like a good idea.”

“Until he evidently got it in his head to collect _all_ the pencils in the West Wing,” Leo pointed out. “Near as anyone could tell, he tried to track every pencil down, got turned around, and walked out of the building.”

Everyone winced.

“All right,” Leo said. “Everyone, beat it. Go home, sleep it off, and be ready to present yourselves to the president at seven tomorrow morning in the Oval Office.”

“Me too?” Danny asked.

“Damn right, you too,” Leo replied. “You want to participate in the shenanigans, you get to participate in the consequences. Seven am sharp.”

“Leo, what about the talks?” Toby asked.

“They ended over an hour ago, just before I sent Secret Service after you,” Leo told him. “No strike; they worked out an agreement. I’ll have Margaret pass the details to Bonnie in the morning. Now get outta here.”

Josh hung back from the mass exodus, discomfort in his expression. 

“What’s on your mind, Josh?” Leo asked, gentling his tone.

“Is Sam . . . can I go see Sam?” Josh asked. “I know you said he’s okay, but I wanted to see for myself.”

Leo smiled faintly. “Sam’s fine,” he assured his deputy. “With the First Lady looking after him, he wouldn’t dare being anything but all right. You can see for yourself tomorrow morning. Go home. It’ll be okay.”

Josh nodded, a small smile on his face as he stood and quietly left the office.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Leo stood and moved towards the Oval Office. Opening the door that connected the two rooms, Leo paused in the threshold of the office and lightly rapped on the frame.

Bartlet glanced up from the reports he was reading at his desk. Seeing Leo, he took off his glasses and pocketed them. “All finished?”

Leo nodded, entering the room. “All finished.”

Bartlet stood, grabbing his suit jacket and flipping it over his head to slide it on. “Care to walk with me to the Residence? We can check in on Sam, and you can fill in me and Abbey at the same time.”

“Sure,” Leo agreed. “Let me just get my things.”

After five minutes of collecting coats and briefcases and switching off lights, the two old friends began the trek over to the East Wing.

“Abbey’s called me several times already for information,” Bartlet told Leo. “She trusts Rollins, but some of the things Sam’s been mumbling in his sleep has her worried that Rollins missed something. She’s considering having Sam sent to GW.”

“What’s he been mumbling?” Leo asked.

“Something about participating in the Olympics?” Bartlet frowned at Leo in confusion. “And Josh stealing his gold?”

Leo smirked in spite of himself. “I can see why Abbey might be concerned. However, given the context, I wouldn’t worry.”

“I admit, I’m curious to know what happened to cause Sam to be wandering the front lawn with a concussion,” Bartlet admitted. “I thought the senior staff knew not to leave him unattended in that condition.”

“They do, but it would appear that competitive pride sort of got in their way,” Leo said.

“Care to give me the highlights?” Bartlet asked.

Leo nodded, casting his mind back over the conversation in his office. “Sure. So a Congressman, a reporter, and the White House Deputy Chief of Staff went to a bar-.”

Bartlet froze, bringing Leo to a stop as well. “Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Leo confirmed.

“This sounds like the start of a bad joke,” Bartlet pointed out.

Leo nodded. “It gets worse.”

THE END


End file.
